


I Can Finally Breathe Your Poetries

by verbaepulchellae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy just wants to be good for his girl, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, gentle domme!Clarke, sub!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wanna kneel for me?” Clarke asks as she ghosts her nails light and barely there over the nape of Bellamy’s neck. She whispers it against his lips, eyes peeking open to look into his own, breath feather light, mixing with his, and god, he does, he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Finally Breathe Your Poetries

**Author's Note:**

> Just some canon gentle Domme Clarke to start your week off right.
> 
> Title is from "Show Me" by Galimatias and Alina Baraz. All their music is amazing, though, definitely worth checking out.

“You wanna kneel for me?” Clarke asks as she ghosts her nails light and barely there over the nape of Bellamy’s neck. She whispers it against his lips, eyes peeking open to look into his own, breath feather light, mixing with his, and god, he does, he does.

It’s been one hell of a week: a child lost in the woods for over forty-eight hours, an electrical fire, shellfish giving several of their people a bad fever that they’ve only just recovered from. Bellamy and Clarke have been stretched thin, barely sleeping at the same time, let alone having time to reconnect like this, fall into this calm, quiet center between them. It’s been a week of Clarke’s serious, thoughtful face looking at him with the fierce certainty that they’ll figure everything out, but he hasn’t had her like this, sweet under his hands and lips, her fingers in his hair, completely and fully each other’s. 

“Please,” he says, because he needs it and he thinks she needs it too. They do this, occasionally, not all that often. Most of the time, they push and pull and drive each other crazy with their hands and mouths and bodies, but sometimes Clarke needs to remind herself good things happen when she’s in charge, sometimes Bellamy needs to know he can give up his control and still be okay. Dominance comes easy to both of them. Embracing submission is a much more tender thing.

“I’ve got you,” Clarke says pressing another kiss to Bellamy’s mouth and he sighs against her, lets his hands relax where he’s holding her waist and just grounds himself with the pressure of her lips on his. “Kneel, Bellamy.” 

He kneels. It’s not graceful, his knees crack and pop, the old wound in his thigh pulls tight. He’s put his body through a lifetime of impact and injury and he’s only twenty-seven. He looks up at Clarke and sees a girl who is only twenty-three and has lived countless lives, has taken countless lives. He trusts himself in her hands. Clarke smiles down at him, runs her fingers lightly along his cheekbones, cups his jaw and tilts his head up so that she can see his whole face. “You are so good, Bellamy.”

Bellamy closes his eyes under her praise and Clarke taps at his cheek, just two fingers light on his skin. “No. Look at me.” He opens his eyes again and fights to hold her gaze. Anywhere else, it’s so easy. But here, on his knees, staring up into her face and her unyielding belief in him, it’s so hard. “You are so good,” she repeats.

She moves behind him and eases his jacket off his shoulders, sets her thumbs into the meat of his neck and works it. Bellamy sighs and closes his eyes again. Clarke’s hands are small but strong and warm. There’s a bit of a chill in their room; there’s always a draft in their quarters no matter what they do and Bellamy shivers under the contrast. Clarke hmms quietly and works her fingers higher, sets them right into the base of Bellamy’s skull. When she digs her thumbs in, it pushes a breath out of him.

“Feel good?” She asks him quietly and he nods. She twists her fingers into his hair a bit and tugs just enough to sting. “Use your words, Bellamy.” There’s a soft undercurrent of authority in her voice, tough and expecting obedience and in all the same ways it used to rile Bellamy up, it soothes him now.

“Yes, it feels good, Clarke.” At his admission her thumbs press just a little harder into the soft muscle and then let up and she simply cups the back of his neck in her palm. 

“I’m glad, Bellamy. It should. You deserve it to feel good.”

He makes an involuntary noise, half protest, half disbelief and Clarke hums and squeezes gently. “Shh… yes, you do. But it’s ok. Just feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, I can do that for you.”

“Tell me to stop if you can’t.”

“I will.”

She reaches around from behind him to tilt his chin up at an angle so she can kiss him gently. “Thank you. You’re so sweet. Here, lift your arms up,” she orders quietly against his lips and already dazed, lost in the weight of her body against his back, the fall of her hair over his head and shoulder, Bellamy slowly obeys her.

“Thank you,” Clarke says again and gives him one more chaste kiss before she rocks back on her heels behind him and catches the hem of his shirt, bunching it up and drawing it up over his head, carefully up his arms and free of his hands. He hears the soft thump of fabric behind him and Bellamy shivers in the cool air, arms raised, waiting for her permission to lower them.

Clarke draws her hands slowly and appreciatively up from his shoulders to the flexed muscles of his biceps and the definition of his forearms. “So strong,” Clarke muses. “You’re beautiful, Bellamy. Look at you. I love how good you are for me, waiting for me to tell you what to do when it’s so easy not to.” She catches his hands in her own and steadies them, gently turns them at the wrist so she can press a kiss into each of his palms. 

“Ok,” Clarke says, smoothing her hands back down his arms to his shoulders. “You can let them down.” Bellamy drops his arms, and tilts his head back seeking contact with her. She lets him rest against her hip and scratches at his scalp with her fingers. It feels so good and when he blinks his eyes open to look up at her she’s smiling down at him, eyes soft and protective. 

He has to clear his throat before he speaks, voice hoarse. “Can I get you off?” He loves making her come, any way he’s allowed to. With his mouth at her tits while she touches herself; with his fingers inside her; with his tongue firm and punishing on her clit; with his cock grinding inside her… he loves it.

“Not yet,” Clarke tells him and smiles at the way his lips part, disapointed. “You will. But not yet.”

“Ok,” he whispers. He turns his head and nuzzles at her stomach as much as he’s able to. “Thank you.”

“Good boy,” Clarke says and Bellamy shivers. Her voice so soft and sure, so proud of him, warms his stomach. He just wants to make her proud and he smiles up at her, relaxing back against her legs. “Yeah, there you are,” Clarke says, hands carding through his hair still. “You feeling good, Bellamy?”

“Yes,” Bellamy breathes and Clarke steadies him as she steps back and away from him.

“Stand up, please,” Clarke orders quietly and Bellamy lurches to his feet, waits with his head bowed forward until she steps in front of him again and rocks up on her toes to press another kiss to his lips. He feels her fingers at the button of his pants, brushing against his cock which is hard and aching, has been since she asked him to kneel. 

She undoes his flies and strips his pants and boxers down his legs, following the fabric down to the floor and kneeling in front of him. Clarke takes one of his hands and guides it to brace on her shoulder, then touches his foot. “Step out… good. Now the other.” She leaves his pants on the floor and slides her hands appreciatively up his calves and thighs, thumbs seeking out the definition of his muscles, palms light enough that they tickle his leg hair. “God, Bellamy. I love your body, you’re so beautiful. And your cock,” Clarke murmurs, palms braced on his hip bones and fingers and thumbs framing his dick. “Well, you know I love that, don’t you?”

Bellamy nods, words failing him, as they always do, at the sight of Clarke on her knees and in charge before him. Clarke looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What did I ask you for, Bellamy?” She asks, warning lacing her voice.

“To use my words,” he says, hoarse.

“That’s right. And I’m not going to ask you again. So?”

“Yes, I know you love my cock,” Bellamy says and feels his face flush as his cock twitches under her gaze. 

“Yeah, good. I love what it does to me when you fuck me with it, how deep it gets. You like fucking me, don’t you?”

“God, yes. Yes, Clarke, I love fucking you.”

“What about when I suck you off, Bellamy?” Clarke asks casually, fingers lightly stroking low on his stomach, thumbs right at the base of his dick, teasing just light enough to drive him crazy. He wants her to touch him, but he doesn’t dare move more than to squeeze his fingers lightly into her shoulder. “Do you like that too?” 

Bellamy nods helplessly, breath knocked out of him at her words but he scrambles to answer her when her face hardens. ‘Y-yes. I love when you suck my dick. Clarke, please.”

“Please what?” She asks.

“Please will you suck my cock? I want to feel your mouth. I want that, please.”

“Shh,” Clarke soothes him gently, takes her hands away from his body and Bellamy whines and aches for her touch. “It’s ok, Bellamy. Easy. You’re doing so well for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying to,” he whispers and Clarke’s face softens, a fond smile tugging her lips as she looks up at him from the floor.

“You are. You’re doing so well,” Clarke tells him and smooths her hand down the back of his thigh to tease lightly at the back of Bellamy’s knee. His breath catches at the gentle touch and all he wants to do is drop to his knees again and kiss her until she’s breathless, until all she can tell him is how good he is for her. But she hasn’t told him he can and he doesn’t want to disobey her. He can trust that in giving up his control to her, she’s going to see him through to the other side. She always does.

“Thank you,” he breathes instead and Clarke’s whole face lights up. 

“That deserves a reward,” Clarke says and the way her grin turns feral sends a shot of pure hot want straight to Bellamy’s gut.

“Fuck. Please, babe. Clarke,” he corrects himself, tripping over his words. “Yes, please.”

“Yeah, Bellamy. Why don’t you sit on the bed for me, ok? Sit right on the edge, feet on the floor.” Bellamy’s quick to follow her orders, sitting carefully and spreading his legs, letting Clarke slot her body between his thighs. She’s so graceful he thinks, a little awestruck at the way her hair always falls so perfectly over her shoulders, the way she kneels up high to catch his chin and guide him to kiss her again. 

Clarke loves to kiss him, loves to fit their lips together, could and has spent hours kissing Bellamy without wanting anything else. He’s always happy to indulge her. She’s slow about it now, holding his chin in place as she moves her lips languidly against his own before drawing his lower lip into her mouth and giving it a slow, hot suck. Bellamy exhales sharply and reaches out to catch her arms, just to steady himself, just to feel her close to him.

“No,” Clarke says, soft but firm, breaking their kiss and leaning back just far enough to look into Bellamy’s eyes without going cross-eyed. “Hands by your sides, Bellamy.”

It’s painful to let go of her, relinquish his hold on her body where she’s so soft and strong, but he does. He drops his hands to the bed beside him and fists them into the coverlet. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, Clarke.”

Clarke scrapes her nails through his hair roughly, stinging his scalp in a way that makes Bellamy groan and lean his head back, trying to follow her touch. “Right now,” Clarke tells him gently. “I just want you to focus on what I do to you. I don’t want you to try to touch me or get me off. I want to make you come, Bellamy.” 

Bellamy tenses under her and Clarke feels it. “Do you think that would be something that would make you feel good?” she asks him gently. Bellamy struggles to find the answer to that, because of course Clarke getting him off is something he loves, but his own pleasure is so attuned to hers, has become so dependent on hers, that he finds he rarely comes unless he knows she’s just as hot and worked up as he is. Doesn’t feel like he’s earned it, like he deserves it until he’s given Clarke enough that she’s a trembling, whimpering, gorgeous mess.

“If… if that’s what you want, then yes,” Bellamy says and Clarke scritches gently at the back of his head and it makes his eyes fall half closed, lips parting in pleasure. 

“I want to make you lose it,” Clarke says quietly. “I want to watch you fall apart with how hot I get you, how desperate I make you.”

“You always get me hot,” Bellamy murmurs, “I’m always desperate for you.”

“But I never get to watch,” Clarke tells him. “Because you’re usually fucking me so good, Bellamy, that I can’t see straight. I want to see your face when I make you come on my body. Yeah?” She asks when Bellamy’s eyes darken and he huffs in surprise. She grins. “That sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“On you?” Bellamy asks, his hands clenching in the sheets on the bed. 

“Yeah, I want it on my face. On my neck. Let you lick it off me,” Clarke offers and laughs when Bellamy shudders. “And then, since you’ll have been so good for me, you can get me off. What do you think?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, please.”

“That sounds good to you?” Clarke prompts gently and Bellamy nods and wishes he could touch her, but she’s set the rules and there’s no way he’s going to risk jeopardizing what she’s just laid out for him.

“That sounds like it would be good. Really good,” Bellamy musters and sighs gratefully when Clarke smiles and leans back in to kiss him again, chaste for only a moment before she uses the grip she has on his hair to anchor him in place and lick into his mouth, stroking over his tongue with her own. Bellamy flicks his tongue back against hers lightly but lets her set the pace, groans when she presses closer, nips at his mouth and his dick brushes against her stomach.

“Mm,” Clarke sighs and drops one of her hands to fist his cock, giving it a hard stroke that leaves Bellamy gasping suddenly against her lips and his hips stuttering against the bed. Her thumb smears through the precum that spurts from the tip and he feels her smile, possessive, when she thumbs lightly at the sensitive underside of his cockhead. “So hard for me. You’re so big, Bellamy. Your cock deserves so much love, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Bellamy whines, desperate to agree as she gives him a loose, slow stroke down his shaft and then back up again. 

“Yeah it does. Here, lie back, Bellamy.” Clarke pushes gently at his chest, stopping him when he’s halfway back, his abs tensed, trying to balance for her until he understands what she wants and props his elbows up underneath him so he can still watch her even as she claims better access to his body. She drags her hand possessively down his chest, nails trailing with just enough force to sting as she blinks up at him, mouth so close to his cock as she continues to lightly fist it. “I want you to watch,” Clarke says, her breath hot on the head of his cock, a little damp. “I want you to see how much I like getting you off, ok?”

“Yes, Clarke, ok.” Bellamy whispers, stomach flipping. Clarke smiles so sweet up at him and then drops her eyes down to where she’s touching him, so sure and familiar with his body. She gives him another slow stroke, teasing the foreskin of his cock with light fingers and then dips her head and gives him a sudden, hot suck. Bellamy jerks under her, surprised. “Sorry, sorry,” he breathes, half reaching for her to stroke her hair like he usually does and then backtracking, scrabbling at the sheets. “Sorry.” 

Clarke gives him a quick lick and looks up at him. “One more thing, Bellamy,” she says gently and Bellamy keeps his eyes on her face. “No more apologizing, ok? You’re being so perfect for me, you’re doing everything I tell you to so well. So unless I tell you I have a problem, you don’t need to say sorry.”

Bellamy drops his eyes, nods, not quite finding the words to answer her, doesn’t know how to be good for her in this moment. Clarke lets go of him and slowly slides herself up over his body, nuzzles her nose against his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Kiss me,” she says quietly and Bellamy can do that. no problem. He turns his face up to her and catches her lips, kisses her the way he knows she likes, deep and certain and slow. Her happy sigh against his mouth is the best thing he’s heard and he licks carefully at the seam of her lips, offering her more. When she opens her mouth, he slips his tongue in and brushes it across hers. She hums happily and then pulls back, giving him another quick press of her lips to his. 

“Perfect,” she tells him and Bellamy shudders as she resettles between his legs. “Alright, Bellamy,” she says smiling up at him. “I’m going to suck your cock now.” 

“Thank you,” Bellamy manages and then Clarke has her mouth on him again and Bellamy loses whatever else he might have thought to say because Clarke is so _good_ at this. She knows his body so well, knows exactly the kind of pressure and suction he likes, slowly working her mouth down the length of his dick, bobbing her head, slightly chapped lips only adding extra sensation. “Fuck,” Bellamy swear and tips his head back, lost in the hotwetdirty of Clarke moaning around him. 

“Hey Bellamy,” Clarke calls to him softly, and Bellamy manages to open his eyes and look blearily down at her. She’s mouthing at the base of his dick, tongue a flash of sensation over and over and over and it’s hard for Bellamy to focus on anything other than that feeling. “This feeling good?”

“Hell yes,” Bellamy rasps. “It’s so good, you’re so good at that Clarke.”

“More?” Clarke asks, grinning at bit at him and pressing a string of kisses back up the underside of his cock, wet and open mouthed until she’s poised with her mouth over the head.

Bellamy nods so quickly that Clarke looks like she’s going to laugh but shakes her head, waits. “Uh, more. Please more, Clarke,” Bellamy manages.

“You got it,” Clarke says, and then, “Remember: eyes on me, Bellamy.” And she’s sucking him back down, sucking harder this time, wetter with all the spit that’s built up, the precum that Bellamy knows he’s dripping. Clarke makes a hot, satisfied sound as she gets him far enough down that his cock is hitting that back of her throat and Bellamy shivers, fights to keep his eyes open because Clarke’s mouth is so soft and when she opens her throat like that, _fuck_ , there’s nothing like it. 

“Shit. Fuck Clarke,” Bellamy groans, fists his hands in the sheets because he wants to touch her so badly. Clarke’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes are a little glazed when she looks up at him and he knows that look. It’s the look Clarke gets when she wants some: when she’s hot for him and what he’s doing to her. Bellamy suddenly needs to touch her, needs to answer that look and take care of his girl. Her mouth on him becomes a little unbearable, the way she’s giving him slow, pulsing suction that’s just perfect, too perfect, but not what he needs. He needs his fingers in her, he needs to make her whimper and sigh and moan as he kisses her cunt. He needs to get her _off_.

“Clarke,” Bellamy stammers. “Clarke, please. I need to touch you. I need to, I need to-”

“Hush,” Clarke says, pulling off his cock with a little pop, her lips starting to get swollen and red, wet. “You’re alright, Bellamy. All you need to do is let me make you come.”

And it’s such a simple order but it’s so _hard_. Bellamy shakes his head, a little anxious at the way she won’t let him do this. She always lets him touch her. He misses her skin even as she’s right here between his legs. He feels disconnected from her, feels like he’s letting her down even when he’s trying his best to do what she’s asking of him. Clarke studies his face and then gently pets his thigh. 

“What’s going on in your head?” she asks. “What are you thinking, Bellamy?”

“I want to take care of you,” Bellamy says. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh, Bellamy,” Clarke says, scratching at his leg with her nails, just a little blunt sensation against the complicated, worked up haze he’s in. “You do. Can’t you tell?”

“Yes, but-” Bellamy starts but stops when Clarke sinks her hand into her leggings and Bellamy knows he goes a little stupid when Clarke pulls her fingers back out again and they’re shiny, wet. 

“Here,” Clarke offers him, holding up her fingers. “You want proof, Bellamy? Look how much I like this.” Bellamy’s lips part and Clarke smirks at him, brushes her fingers over his lower lip. “Yeah, have a taste.” 

He licks at her fingers, then ducks his head forward and pulls them into his mouth so he can suck on them. They taste like her cunt, rich and musky and a little bit like the smell of the sea. They taste like she does when he’s been sucking at her tits and rubbing at her clit, hot and pleased and sexy as fuck. They taste like she’s feeling good.

“See?” Clarke asks him with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. “See, you don’t need to worry, Bellamy.” She’s closed her hand around his cock again and is giving him long, slow strokes, just tight enough that it sends sparks of need through his brain. “You’re making me feel good just by letting me take care of you, just by being so good for me. Now,” she says, pulling her fingers from his mouth but running them over his cheek, down his neck and chest. “I know you can do this. I know you can come for me, can’t you, Bellamy?”

It takes everything Bellamy has to resist hauling her up and getting his hands on her, his fingers in her where he now knows she’s hot and wet just for him. But she has already told him that’s not what she wants, not right now, so he nods carefully, takes a shaky, careful breath. “Yes, Clarke.”

Clarke smiles at him, a little mischievous, and nuzzles her face lightly at his stomach, giving him hot, smacking kiss on his abs. She tightens her hand, pulls at him harder, surer, so that Bellamy swears under his breath, legs tensing. “That’s all I wanted to hear,” Clarke tells him and then she’s fitting her lips back around the head of his cock and flicking her tongue fast and firm against the underside of the head. 

The noise Bellamy makes might be a whimper, but he can hardly think straight with how good Clarke is, how filthy the noises from slide of her mouth are. She sucks at him hungrily, like she’s desperate for it and shit, Bellamy’s heart stutters and his dick twitches in Clarke’s mouth. Clarke hums happily and sinks deeper down on his cock again, taking him all the way so that he bumps against her soft palate, makes Bellamy swear at that, and the angles her head to let him slowly fill her throat, her eyes snapping up to his.

“Clarke,” Bellamy grunts, fighting to keep watching her, and sees her cheeks dimple ever so slightly despite the stretch of her lips around him.

Clarke makes a soft, choked noise as she swallows his cock further and Bellamy shivers, something ticking in his brain about Clarke sounding like that around his cock and he has to scrabble to at his own legs to keep from touching her, whines. “Yeah, Bellamy,” Clarke laughs, voice husky with a rasp as she pulls off him and damn. It’s so fucking hot hearing her sound like that. “How you doing? Getting close for me?”

Bellamy grunts, nods and Clarke grins again, sticks her tongue out and licks broadly over the head of his cock, eyes locked on his. Bellamy’s hips jerk and he bites his lip to keep from apologizing, watches Clarke’s eyes darken as she licks him again and again, all flushed skin and red mouth and blue eyes, almost too much for Bellamy to look at without feeling like he’s going a little crazy with wanting her. When Clarke closes her lips around him, she gives a pleased little moan and her eyes droop closed. Fuck, Clarke loves sucking cock, loves sucking _his_ cock and Bellamy growls at that. She’s getting off on him getting off and when she flicks her eyes up again and looks at him dead in the eye Bellamy feels like the breath gets knocked out of him. Shit, shit, Bellamy is suddenly so close to coming that it takes him by surprise and he thrashes, trying to warn her.

“Clarke, oh _fuck_ , Clarke. Please, I’m going to come. Please let me, let me,” Bellamy babbles and can’t help but touch her cheek where the head of his cock is bulging out obscenely. 

Clarke grabs his wrist and presses it down onto the mattress and then slurps off his cock and gets her hand on him, fisting him tight and quick right under the head, just how he likes, just the way she’s seen him make himself come, and looks up at his face, hungry.

“Give it to me, Bellamy,” Clarke says, voice shot. “Come on, come on, you got it.”

Bellamy turns his hand under hers and grips her wrist back, strokes his thumb over the thin bone of her arm and feels his balls drawn up tight and close. Shit, he’s so close, he wants to come so badly, and when Clarke drops her head to press an open mouthed, adoring kiss right at the tip of his cock, Bellamy is fucking done. 

The force of it makes him collapse back on the bed whole body shaking with the rush of it. He’s vaguely aware as he settles back in his body that he’s sunk his nails into his thigh with his free hand to keep from grabbing at her and Clarke strokes gently at his fingers with her own, easing the sting. 

“Good job,” Clarke praises him with such sweetness that it makes Bellamy’s heart ache. “Bellamy, that was so great, you did so well for me.” She presses soft kisses into his thighs and Bellamy feels something sticky against her cheek. At his sharp intake of breath she gives him a breathy, little laugh. “Don’t you want to see?”

Bellamy scrabbles up on his elbows and holy shit, Clarke’s got his cum on her face. It’s on her cheek and the corner of her mouth, her forehead and a little in her hair; a long rope of it on her neck. He can’t help the soft _fuck_ because Clarke looks so dirty and so hot and pleased with herself as she continues to press light kisses into his leg, a proud little smile at her mouth. “How do I look, Bellamy?”

“Gorgeous,” Bellamy tells her, because she is. “And covered in my cum.”

“That’s right,” Clarke says and turns her head up tilting her chin to Bellamy so he’s pushing himself up further, as close as she wants him. “Give me a kiss.”

He does. God, she tastes like cock and cum and _Clarke_ underneath that and Bellamy sighs into her, swipes his tongue gently over his cum at the corner of her mouth. 

“Oh, very good,” Clarke whispers, fitting her hand proprietarily around the back of his neck again. “Yeah, you’re going to clean me up, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says and then carefully shifts- not enough to displace her hand from his nape, just enough to nuzzle against her cheek, give her kitten licks of his tongue against her soft skin, lapping at his cum. Clarke sighs softly and tilts her head for him, lets him clean her left cheek until he can’t taste himself there anymore and presses a light kiss to her cheek bone, then her forehead, mindful of the cum in her hair- using his fingers as well to make sure he doesn’t leave any behind to dry and tangle. 

When he drops his face into her neck, Clarke makes a happy sound and loops her arm around his shoulders, trusting his strength to hold her weight as she leans back far enough to be unbalanced so he can have better access. Bellamy groans and his tongue gets rougher on her, longer, firmer swipes that make Clarke shiver.

“Don’t be greedy,” Clarke admonishes him gently as he licks hungrily at her neck. “Share, Bellamy.” And Bellamy does, gentling his tongue again and licking up a swatch of his cum, holding it delicately on his tongue as he lifts his head and gently kisses her, offering the taste of his pleasure back to her. Clarke hums, pleased, and sucks it from his mouth. She drops a hand between her legs, into her leggings and Bellamy gets a little desperate, kisses her harder until she jerks on his hair to make him behave. 

“I want to,” Bellamy whispers, “I want to get you off.” Clarke’s fingers are just moving slow inside her leggings, but Bellamy knows she’s working her clit and he gets a little anxious, mouths at her chin, because he wants to help: the need to make her feel good back tenfold.

“Easy,” Clarke says, fisting her hand tighter in his hair to make him stay still. “Bellamy, you will. I promised you, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Bellamy whines. “You did. Can I?”

“If you are patient,” Clarke says against his lips, “And if you finish cleaning me up, then yes, Bellamy. Then you can get me off. Ok?”

“Ok,” Bellamy agrees, a little frantic, nuzzles his face against hers, seeking the warmth from her voice again. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Clarke’s eyes soften again and she presses a slow, lingering kiss to his forehead. “So sweet,” Clarke praises him. “I love you so much. You know that, right Bellamy?” 

Bellamy ducks his head and goes back to carefully licking his cum from her neck, not quite able to meet her eyes. He knows Clarke loves him, he knows. He just gets overwhelmed hearing it, especially at times like this when he feels a little off kilter, times when he lets Clarke take care of him and it doesn’t quite click in his brain what he’s done to deserve it. Clarke lets him hide his face in her neck, rubs at his scalp and neck, lets him circle her waist in his arms and hold her against him. 

“I do,” Clarke whispers. “I love you. All the time. Don’t know where I’d be without you, Bellamy. You take on so much, I love seeing you let go, love that you let me.” 

Her soft words wash gentle over Bellamy, settling in his brain and soothing a raw place in his chest that never feels like it’s going to completely heal. Her skin is warm and damp and clean under his mouth and Bellamy presses a kiss gently to the hollow of her collarbone, snuffles at her, playful, until Clarke giggles- a girlish, light sound that always just manages to catch Bellamy by surprise that it comes from Clarke. She taps light at the back his neck with two fingers and he draws back enough that he can look at her. Her eyes are so soft and fond that it makes Bellamy’s heart lurch and he leans in to kiss her, not caring if she’s told him he could or not.

Clarke smiles under his mouth, cups his neck for a moment before she raises her arms. “Want to take my shirt off?” She asks against his lips and Bellamy carefully finds the hem of it and draws it up slowly, the soft graze of his scarred knuckles against her skin making Clarke shiver. He’s careful with it over her head, mindful not to catch her hair, keeps the collar of her shirt from touching her face. 

He drops it on the floor next to her and smooths his hands down her back, traces the wings of her shoulder blades, watches her eyes close under his touch, the soft smile that lights up her face. God, she’s so beautiful, his girl is so ethereal when she lets down her guard. Clarke sighs and opens her eyes again, catches him staring at her face and her smile grows. She braces her hands on his legs and pushes herself up and Bellamy winces for her knees. She doesn’t seem bothered by having knelt on the hard floor for so long, she just strips off her bra and then tilts her hips forward. “You can take off my leggings now, Bellamy.”

Bellamy hooks his fingers into the waistband and draws them down, amused by the little hip-shimmy Clarke gives him to help. He helps her get the slim fitting fabric over her feet and then she’s standing there, bare and beautiful between his legs. When he manages to look up at her face, Clarke flashes him her teeth. 

“Now?” Bellamy asks, barely containing the quiver of his hands.

“Yeah,” Clarke laughs, and pushes at his shoulder so that Bellamy flops back on the bed and she shuffles after him, settling her knees comfortably on either side of head. “Now you can _finally_ get me off,” she teases him but she loses the end of it in a gasp because Bellamy catches her hips and pulls her down hard against his face. Goddamn, but she smells so good, and she’s wet and pink and soft and he rubs his nose into the damp curls just to catch more of her scent. When he licks her, he groans because god, she’s dripping, smearing across his chin and lips, so worked up already. 

“Oh Bellamy,” Clarke sighs, raking her fingers sharp and hot across his scalp as he hums happily into her. “That’s nice.” Bellamy sucks on her labia, teases them with the tip of his tongue because he knows that gets her going, builds her up carefully so that when he finally finds her clit with the tip of his tongue she’s ready for it, giving a jerk and a needy little moan, grinding down onto his face. Fuck, he loves that, loves the way she gets impatient and pushes him for more. He’s honestly impressed she held off for so long. And that warms him, makes his heart feel like it’s swelling in his chest, the fact that his girl spent so long on him when he knows Clarke gets gorgeous and greedy when she’s this keyed up. He slides his hands around her hips, pets at her stomach as he pushes the flat of his tongue into her clit and lets her rock against it, little circles of her hips to get the right contact and friction she likes.

“Taste so good,” he rumbles into her, right against her clit so she can have a little bit of vibration and Clarke whimpers. “Yeah, Clarke, so fucking sweet. I love your cunt, huh? Fucking love it.” He gives her hot, mean lashes of his tongue, ones he knows make her jerk, can feel the way it makes her cunt clench against his chin. He rocks his chin up just a bit, just so she gets the sweet press of it where she’s aching and empty.

Clarke exhales sharply and tugs on his hair and Bellamy blinks his eyes open, hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, lost in chasing her pleasure and the heady rich taste of her. But this is so much better, looking up the soft line of Clarke’s body, the slight swell of her belly and her tits, full and flushed, nipples peaked tight. Clarke’s face is tipped forward, her chin practically resting on her chest, lips parted and eyes dark as she watches Bellamy. He groans and sucks at her clit, makes it hard and slow so that Clarke’s breath stutters, so she whimpers high in her throat. 

“Uh-huh,” Bellamy tries to encourage her, but he’s not sure she even hears him, he’s that deep in her cunt. He ducks his head and slips his tongue inside her, makes sure he can still nuzzle her clit with his nose as he tongue fucks her slow, laps up into her so that she clenches around his tongue. 

“Fingers, Bellamy,” Clarke gasps out and oh yeah, yeah Bellamy can give her his fingers. She’s so smart, his girl is so clever and he angles his hand so that he can sink two fingers into her, twists them inside her and Clarke actually whines. She feels so good, goddamn, tight and so fucking wet. Bellamy gets her clit back under his tongue, works it slow and hard with the flat of it. Clarke’s balance tips above him, curling forward as she shivers with everything he’s giving her and Bellamy slides his hand up her body, bracing the heel of his palm between her breasts and gently pushes her back up, keeping her right where he wants her. He quirks the fingers he’s got in her carefully towards himself and rubs, presses, searching until Clarke cries out, thighs tensing, the muscles of her stomach jumping.

“That’s it,” Clarke moans, “oh my god, Bellamy. Oh my god, you’re going to make me come.” And Bellamy knows, can feel her cunt start to get that much tighter around his fingers, but Clarke telling him, encouraging him, is some sort of crazy good feedback loop and Bellamy growls into her, fucks his fingers into her hard so she’s lurching into his hand keeping her up, scrabbling at his arm, soft, hurt, pleased noises falling from her open mouth.

“Come on, Clarke,” Bellamy whispers, more because he has to tell her than he thinks she hears him. “You got it.” Clarke’s fingers curl back into his hair and pull him hard up into her, demanding. His girl is so bossy, so sure of what she needs, Bellamy loves it. He gives her everything he’s got, his urgency to get her off spurred on by Clarke’s gasping, and he gets a little messy about it, the slick smacks of his mouth against her loud in the quiet room. He closes his lips tight over Clarke’s clit and hums gently, flicks his tongue light and teasing and fast against her and Clarke’s eyes snap open, stare at him, her breath harsh in her throat.

“Oh, so good,” Clarke chokes. “So good, so good, Bellamy, so good.” He feels her cunt flutter tight and perfect around him as she comes, voice going high and desperate but still murmuring hot, sweet praise at him, even as she leans boneless against the hand braced at her chest.

Bellamy keeps his mouth on her soft, his finger slowing to just stroke lightly inside her, lets her ride out the last shudders of her orgasm before he slides them free and slowly tips her to the side, catches her head and eases her onto the bed next to him. 

He’s hard again, always gets worked up when he’s getting Clarke off because it’s so fucking hot, but it’ll hold. Right now, Clarke is petting at his hair, murmuring at him as she nuzzles at his temple. Bellamy catches _perfect_ and _love you_ and a giggled _fuck_ as Bellamy gently strokes her back, trails his fingers over her sides and arms, rubs at her goosebumps _._ “Come here,” Clarke finally manages, more coherent, and tugs his face up from where he’s tucked it into her shoulder and she kisses him, sighs happily as she tastes herself on his tongue. 

“That was so amazing, Bellamy,” she whispers. “You made me feel so incredible.” She reaches out to find him hot and hard between their bodies and curls her hand around him. “You want to fuck me?”

“Nah,” Bellamy murmurs, grinning against her face. “I’ll fuck you later, when you’ll really appreciate it. You’re still shaking, Clarke. Let me give you a break, huh?”

And just like that there’s a levity back between them, a brightness that had gotten lost in the hectic grind of the week and Clarke rolls her eyes and laughs into his mouth as they kiss, just sweet, playful lips catching briefly.

“You’re so full of it,” Clarke tells him. “But alright, I’ll take you up on it later.”

“Mmhmm, I know you will, babe,” Bellamy says and then pushes himself up to lean against the headboard of their bed and pulls Clarke to lie in his lap, fitting his fingers into her hair. Clarke sighs and snuggles into his thigh, half mouthing at him, lazy. Bellamy grabs his book from the nightstand and Clarke runs her fingers over his knee.

“Out loud?” she asks sleepily. Bellamy knows he’s grinning like an idiot when he picks up mid sentence, keeps his voice soft over the old, technical language about gmo crop breeding and care. Clarke dozes after a while, breath soft on his leg in little, huffed snores that make Bellamy rub at her scalp affectionately, contentment furling bright in his chest. 

When later comes, Bellamy rolls Clarke onto her stomach and fucks her deep and sure from behind, panting into her neck and answering her trembling whimpers with growled encouragement, fingers laced together on the pillow under her chest. 

Yeah, it’s been a hell of a week, but that’s never stopped them before.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @raincityruckus for beta'ing.
> 
> I'm on tumblr with lots of feelings as usual. Come chill with [me!](http://verbam.tumblr.com)


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